


Fortunate Son

by maybe123



Category: The Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: 1960s, Gen, Hippies, San Francisco, Summer of Love - Freeform, Vampires, Vietnam War, externalizing a semester's worth of angst, giving David a tragic backstory, im really bad at writing summaries, marko and david are brothers because it's my headcanon, references/allusions to mental illness, set in late 1967-early 1968, uhhh...I can explain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28490388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybe123/pseuds/maybe123
Summary: It's late 1967 in San Francisco and David is a disillusioned hippie living in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood. When his brother receives a draft notice, he is desperate to save him from getting shipped to Vietnam and is willing to do anything, including accepting a mysterious offer from a stranger named Max.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Fortunate Son

**Author's Note:**

> this started out as part of a final I had for a class on vampires in literature and media (yes part of our final was literally to write fanfiction) which is why it's maybe a bit weird. but I got really emotionally invested in the story and my ta liked it so I thought ehh why not.

David had told Marko not to follow him to San Francisco. He wouldn’t go so far as to beg, but he had thought that his threatening tone over the phone would have been enough after Marko had first brought it up. But sure enough, a week after Marko’s eighteenth birthday he was smiling on David’s doorstep, having hitchhiked all the way from Washington. David could have killed him, but he wasn’t cruel enough to throw his little brother out on the streets, especially with winter settling in and making the nights unbearably cold and foggy. His roommates gave their blessing, so Marko moved in, sleeping on their couch and continuing to spend most of his days lazing around Golden Gate Park, getting high and ignoring David’s demands that he either find a job or leave.

David had been living in San Francisco for a little over a year. He had decided to move down after he lost his scholarship to the University of Washington for smoking weed in the dorms. He was sick of living in Seattle anyways, with the constant cloud cover, bad memories, and all the old people and professors telling him what to think. From all of the songs and programs on TV San Francisco had seemed like a sanctuary in comparison. It wasn’t that he exactly wanted to be a hippie, but he had dreams of finding a place where love was truly free and the mind could be released-to what he wasn’t quite sure, but he wanted to find out. So he made the mistake of selling his dad’s old motorcycle and using some of the money to buy a truck. He then finally headed down to California, leaving his mother and Marko behind.

For a while it had been good, especially at the beginning of the year when he had moved into the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood and officially fell in with the hippies. There was an electricity in the air that had falsely promised with drug fueled pseudo-intellectualism that there was a singular perfect, utopic consciousness. It was exactly the kind of philosophy and community that David had been looking for after being duped by Ginsberg poems and Kerouac novels into believing he could transcend being just a dumb kid with no money, cursed to follow his father’s footsteps by working in construction and dying of a heart attack at 50. He thought for a brief, LSD encrusted moment that there was something more, something promised that would wash away the anger and desperation.

But sometime after the Summer of Love was drawing to a close reality began to catch up and people started looking around them, including David. He finally noticed the growing numbers of hungry kids sleeping on the sidewalks up and down Haight, the forced spectacle and false promises of the movement, and that most hippies were more interested in dropping out completely than tuning in and turning on, including himself. It was like waking up to a hangover, going over all the memories of the night before and cringing at all the mistakes that had been made and the momentary pleasures and beliefs that had amounted to nothing more than a headache and a creeping emptiness.

It was around this time that Marko showed up and the betrayal of it just made David spiral into more fits of anger. If David could he would have grinded all of San Francisco into dust and thrown it into the bay, just for being no different from Seattle and keeping a better life a little bit more out of reach.

A few weeks later Marko walked into David’s room without knocking, holding a letter in his hand and shaking. David figured that he was having a bad trip and snatched the letter out of his hand, shouting at him for bursting into his room. But then he looked down at the paper and saw that it was a draft notice. In a month Marko would have to travel to the military induction center in Oakland and then in all likelihood would be shipped out for basic training.

As he read and reread the letter’s stiff and formal commands, David thought about a dark haired boy named Anthony who had worn thick glasses and always had a different book under his arm with loose pages and a torn cover. They had met at a party at UW when they were both freshman. He was probably the last person there that David would have been attracted to, but something about the way he smiled crookedly and handed him a joint before even saying a word drew him in. It clicked so easily from there, almost as if Anthony was an extension of himself. David had never felt so in love.

But Anthony had to drop out before sophomore year began when his father lost his job and couldn’t afford tuition anymore. He got conscripted not much later when the war officially started and the draft ramped up. Anthony had disagreed with the war, believing it was more of a natural progression in an imperialistic plot than a fight against Communism, but he also said it was still his duty to serve and wasn’t afraid to go. But when he came home on leave, David knew the war was changing him. David spent hours listening to him ramble without any trace of his characteristic eloquence and levelheadedness about war crimes and how the South Vietnamese didn’t want them there and that the politicians and newspapers were lying-the war would not be easy or over anytime soon. It was only a few weeks after that he died in a helicopter crash in a place in South Vietnam that David had never heard of. Another two months later David was banished from UW and left for San Francisco.

David still hadn’t recovered from his death and he didn’t think he could survive Marko getting killed too. After Marko had eventually fallen asleep that night, David decided to go for a walk to mull it over and think of what choices he might have. He knew to avoid walking around Haight even late at night in case he ran into someone he knew or wanted to bum a smoke. Walking through Golden Gate Park was usually a slightly better choice. Besides, it reminded him of when he was a kid in Seattle and his dad would take him up to parks to watch the sun sink behind the Olympic Mountains. It calmed him, as if his father were still alive and there with him.

Still, as he sat on a bench by the conservatory, he couldn’t help but let the anxiety increase as he grinded his jaw. David couldn’t bear the thought of Marko in prison for avoiding the draft or having to live in Canada without any way to come home, but he knew there also wasn’t any hope of a deferment. Marko was a broke, working-class kid who had barely made it out of high school and was the image of a scruffy, unemployed hippie, long hair and dirty and tattered clothes that reeked of weed. The army would never pass up the opportunity to ship him off and force him to grow up and grapple with reality. But David knew Marko would never make it in Vietnam. The war would snap him in half.

David shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it and decided to head to a bar, not wanting to think anymore. All of the bars around Haight were crowded and rowdy, which David wasn’t in the mood for but it felt slightly bearable once he had swallowed down a few shots of whiskey that he couldn’t afford. After wasting away all of the money he had in his wallet, he pushed a group of drunk teenagers aside and swaggered over to a dark booth in the least crowded area possible, remembering the joint in his inside pocket. He reached for it and placed it in his mouth before fumbling for his matches, cursing to himself as he wondered if he had left them at home.

“Need a light?” he heard a voice ask. David raised his head and saw that it was a sheepish looking man, maybe in his late 30’s, sticking out like a sore thumb in the swarm of hippies.

“Yeah,” David replied shrugging. “Got one?”

“Here,” the man said, stepping forward and handing him an antique, gold-plated lighter. David raised his eyebrows and looked up at him, taking it.

“Hey, thanks,” David mumbled as he lit up. He inhaled deeply and then offered the man the joint.

“No, thank you,” the man chuckled and shook his head. “My name is Max, by the way.”

The man, Max, offered him his hand. David shook it, slightly uncomfortable and wishing he would leave him alone, but shrugged it off.

“David,” he replied, motioning towards himself.

“Can I sit with you for a moment David?”

David glared at him and tapped his hand anxiously on the table, but shrugged, not wanting to seem like he cared. “If you must.”

Max smiled and slid into the bench across from him. David took another hit and breathed the smoke out. “Are you one of those tourists here to gawk at all the hippies?”

“No,” Max replied, laughing again. “I live here, up at Nob Hill.”

David cocked his head. “Swanky.”

“I suppose,” Max replied, shrugging. He eyed David for a moment. “So, David, I couldn’t help but notice that you seem a little perturbed. Can I ask what’s wrong?”

“That’s not any of your business,” David replied curtly, carelessly blowing smoke his way.

“Come on, you can trust me,” Max responded, waving the smoke away. “I’m sure I can give some advice, or maybe help even, whatever it is.”

David shook his head. “No, you can’t.”

“You’d be surprised.”

David looked at him, suddenly feeling so tired that he would give anything to be in his bed. He pursed his lips and sighed, shrugging.

“It’s my brother. He got a draft notice today.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Max responded sympathetically. “I take it you’re against the war.”

“Of course I am,” David said irritably, carelessly ashing the joint on the table. “But I’m no Communist either. Fuck, I don’t even know if I care anymore. I’d trade places with him and blow up all of Vietnam myself if it meant that he’d be okay.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” David questioned impatiently, narrowing his eyes and leaning forward. “Let me guess, you were in Korea and know what’s it like to be a young man stuck in the middle of a war.”

“Maybe not Korea,” Max responded thoughtfully. “The Civil War might be more apt.”

David glared at him, assuming he was trying to make a bad joke. He took another hit and then stood up to leave. “Well, Max, it’s been great getting to know you,” he said sarcastically.

“Wait David,” Max said, standing as well. “What if I told you I could help your brother?”

“Don’t put me on, man.”

“I’m being completely serious.”

“Oh yeah, how then?” David snapped. “What could you possibly do?”

“I know a few people-I could pull some strings. The absolute worst that would happen to him would be getting assigned to an outpost in Europe.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was out of the kindness of my heart?”

“Fuck no.”

Max laughed heartily as if it were a good joke. “Alright then, I need someone to work for me. I could hire you in exchange for helping your brother.”

“To do what?” David asked suspiciously.

Max smiled strangely, his teeth flashing in the dark. “I own a business out by Union Square and I thought I could use someone-what would you say- _groovy_ like you to work with me to help draw in a younger demographic.”

David sneered. “I’m probably the least _groovy_ person you could find.”

“But you’re young and appealing, and I could use that.”

David looked at him, distrust clear on his face. Max continued to smile at him pleasantly, as if offering jobs to strangers in bars was something he did regularly. “Is this something funny?” David finally asked, his tone bordering on threatening.

“No, of course not,” Max chuckled.

David shook his head. “This is all too creepy for me.”

“I’ll pay well, and you’ll be helping your brother.”

“Hey, man, I don’t even know who you fucking are,” David responded, curling his lip. “Why should I believe anything you’re saying?”

“You said yourself that you’d blow up Vietnam for your brother,” Max said, clearly not intimidated. “Don’t you think taking a job offer is slightly more reasonable?”

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not stupid enough to fall for a scam.”

“You’d really rather that your brother get sent to war than try to take me on my word?” Max replied patiently.

David exhaled sharply and quickly looked away. The words were almost physically painful to hear and he could feel his muscles aching with fatigue. He shook his head, trying to think clearly through all of the haze, and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said weakly. “I’m really tired.”

“Why don’t you come over to my apartment tomorrow night?” Max replied, smiling comfortingly. “We’ll have a glass of wine and talk it over some more.”

David didn’t know if it was the exhaustion or the desperation, but he could feel himself giving in. He nodded, but frowned. “Nothing funny?”

“Scout’s honor,” Max answered, but again his smile seemed strange and it sent shivers down David’s spine.

-

Against his better judgement, David showed up to Max’s apartment the next night. He figured if the worst were to happen and Max tried anything, he could probably take him on easily enough. Besides, there was a small possibility that Max wasn’t lying and he could help Marko. David didn’t have many other choices, so he decided it was worth taking the risk.

Max lived in a pent house at the top of Nob Hill that had a disgustingly perfect view of the whole bay. It made David jealous, but it also curbed his suspicion. Max said he wanted to hire him to be an assistant manager at a music store he owned, even though David didn’t have any retail experience and only knew a few basic guitar chords. But like he had said the night before, he wanted someone with charisma who wasn’t stupid and understood how the younger generation thought, and apparently for whatever reason Max believed that David fit that description. He still felt uneasy, but Max reasserted his pledge to help Marko and offered him a salary that couldn’t be refused.

Max then said they should celebrate and brought out a bottle of wine. He gave some boring spiel as he poured about it being imported from France and incredibly expensive, but worth sharing with David. The wine wasn’t like anything David had drunk before. It was rich and smooth, but also bitter and vaguely metallic. David figured it tasted so foreign because he had only ever had cheap wine before, but it still seemed off and he wondered if wine could go bad. And he had never been a lightweight but after a single glass he could feel it beginning to take hold. But it didn’t feel like being drunk, instead it felt almost like the beginnings of a good trip-euphoric and calming. Next thing he knew it was 5:30 PM the next day and he was in his bed back on Haight, feeling heavy and dizzy, but not exactly hungover. In fact, he felt alert and manic, hovering miles above his usual depressive waking state.

David was amazed when the job didn’t turn out to be a scam. The music store was real and so was the money, but the work was fucking awful. Mostly the only people who came in were professional musicians looking for orchestral instruments and repairs or rich mothers wanting to buy violins and flutes to force on their children. David was useless in all of those situations and even if a kid came in looking to start a band he wouldn’t know how to help them either. He didn’t have a clue what differences there were between the different guitar brands and models because they all sounded the same to him. He left the bulk of the work to the other employees, mostly older men who couldn’t stand David and his laziness or understand why Max had hired him. He spent most of his time napping in the back.

He knew he was in danger of getting ratted on and fired, but he couldn’t help it. During the day he was exhausted, wanting nothing more than to sleep, but then at night he was wide awake. David thought he must have caught something, maybe mono, but when he went to the free clinic on Haight they couldn’t find anything wrong with him. They said to lay off drugs and alcohol, but David hadn’t been using or drinking much. The only thing he drank regularly was the wine he had at Max’s apartment when he went in on Friday evenings to lie about his non-existent progress at the store. Still, as time went on he never got in any trouble at work and was paid with more money than he had ever had before. Max also never failed to remind David that he was doing this for Marko. He was saving his life.

-

The day finally came for Marko’s induction. David woke him up before dawn, having not slept at all during the night, and practically dragged him into his truck. Marko fidgeted anxiously the entire drive over to the induction center, but never said anything. David had told him that it was going to work out, but Marko hadn’t seemed to believe him. He barely got off of the couch most days, too terrified to face the coming reality of being shipped off.

But sure enough, Marko called just as David was about to crawl into bed after making it back onto Haight. He had failed his physical and had been told without much ceremony that he could leave. So David got back into his car and headed to Oakland, hoping that he wouldn’t fall asleep while driving.

Marko chattered excitedly the entire way home. They hadn’t said why he had failed the physical, but he guessed that it was because he was a little underweight. Then he made the mistake of making fun of the Ray-Ban sunglasses David had just bought with his new wages, saying it made him look like a blind, blond Buddy Holly impersonator. David gripped the steering wheel until it seemed like it was about to crumble as a surge of anger flashed through him, squeezing his chest so tight that it felt like his ribs would crack. Without taking a moment to think, he brought his hand forward and struck Marko behind the head with more strength than he knew he had. Marko lurched forward and hit his forehead against the dash with an ugly thud. David felt almost sick with guilt as he watched Marko groan, saying that he had hurt his neck, let alone his head. But he sneered, not wanting to let Marko know how horrified he was and snarled that he should watch what he said next time.

The doctors at the clinic said that David hadn’t done any actual damage, besides some sore muscles. But as the day dragged on Marko refused to say a word to him, opting to chain smoke on the couch and stare at the walls.

David pretended like he didn’t care, but he couldn’t shake feeling angry at himself for hitting him. When night fell the rage settled in, making his muscles hot and tense. He paced his room, the thoughts piling up until David could almost feel them harden in his brain. He tore at his hair and slammed his fist into the wall without thinking. The wall gave way easily around his fist, as if it was made of nothing more than a sheet of paper. David pulled away in terror and gaped at the fresh hole in his wall. He gripped his clenched fist, marveling that even though it had torn through wood and insulation it wasn’t injured at all, not even bleeding. He didn’t dare to think about what could have happened if he had hit Marko just a little harder, because he suddenly realized he easily could have. After that he could feel the growing and hardening strength and danger running up and down his bones and muscles like electric shocks.

What was almost worse was that he knew whatever was happening was changing him mentally as well. Most nights he felt a strange, almost oppressive euphoria that promised that if he started running he would never have to stop. But other nights he felt a dangerous sadness that seamlessly blended with a painful anger that threatened to overpower him. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he felt sure that he was going insane; there could be no other explanation in his mind. But he didn’t tell anyone about it, too afraid that they would throw him in some mental hospital and he would be damned before he got pushed around by any kind of Nurse Ratched.

One evening in particular he woke up and he immediately knew from the ominous stillness heavy in his gut that it was going to be a difficult night. He didn’t trust himself to be around anybody, but somehow he knew he could go to Max. David still didn’t understand why Max was so interested in him, but he felt strangely calm around him, as if he had known him all of his life. It wasn’t attraction or friendship, most nights he found Max annoying, but David recognized him as a resource.

Max took him in even though David hadn’t even bothered to call him before showing up at his apartment. Before Max had even said anything beyond a greeting, David asked for money without an explanation or a promise to pay it back. He didn’t really need the money, but part of it was just to see if Max would do it. Sure enough, Max gave it to him without any questions and didn’t seem to care that David didn’t thank him for it.

The next chance David had he sold his truck and bought a Triumph with the money Max had given him. After that, most nights when he didn’t have an appointment with Max to drink wine and listen to him drone about things he didn’t care about like wineries and moving down the coast, he was riding his bike, not even caring where he went and simply focusing on the road ahead so his mind would finally go quiet.

But after a few weeks Marko started noticing that something was wrong. He tried to ask him about it a few times, but David always shot down the conversation before it could get started. Finally, one evening Marko burst into his room before he could leave for his night ride and blocked the door.

“Get out of the way Marko,” David snapped. Marko shook his head forcefully.

“You’ve been out every night these last two weeks. Tell me where you’re going.”

“Out for a ride.”

Marko furrowed his brows, obviously not believing him. “It’s going to rain.”

“I don’t care.”

Marko remained tense. “What’s up with the motorcycle anyway?”

“It’s just a bike, Marko.”

“Where did you get the money for it?”

“I told you, I sold the truck.”

“I’m not as stupid as you think I am,” Marko replied, setting his jaw. “There’s no way you could get the money for a brand new Triumph out of that piece of shit truck.”

“I also have a job, unlike you.”

“David, will you stop bullshitting me and just tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” David growled. “Get out of my room.”

“No, not until you tell me what you’re doing tonight,” Marko said sternly, throwing his shoulders back in a vain attempt to mask his scrawniness. David scowled, staring him down with narrowed eyes.

“Get out of my way, Marko.”

“Or what? You’ll hit me?”

David clenched his jaw, the guilt hitting him like a wave he had turned his back to. He scoffed and looked away, but failed to entirely hide his revulsion. Marko frowned at him, easing back a little.

“Look, it’s not just the bike,” Marko began. “You just seem…different.”

David exhaled sharply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re always in your room and you’re angry with everyone all of the time and, like, you never smile anymore, you know?”

“Since when do I smile?”

“I just thought, you know…” Marko trailed off, his voice wavering slightly. He looked away for a moment and scratched the back of his head. “Maybe it’s about me getting drafted, that it brought things up for you.”

David furrowed his brows angrily. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know, things about Anthony.”

David bristled at the reference. “What the fuck do you know about Anthony?”

“I know that you cared for him a lot and I know it probably still hurts, and with me almost getting shipped off too and the election coming up and the things they’re saying about the war and all of us…I guess I just figured that it might be hard on you.”

“It isn’t,” David growled and stepped forward as if he was about to charge Marko, but he stood firm, not even flinching.

“Just _talk_ to me David. I know you don’t want to and it’s personal, but I’m your brother and-and I can-”

“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Marko stared at him, his eyes wide with concern and helplessness. David pushed him aside, being careful not to be too rough, but firm enough that Marko wouldn’t challenge him. He quickly got out of the house and onto the street, where it was beginning to pour, making it too dangerous to ride.

David growled and meandered through the dark. He eventually came to Golden Gate Park and wandered until he came to a part of the park he wasn’t familiar with. He found a bench and sat down as the rain began to let up, trying desperately to quiet his brain, but the anger and frustration continued to burn.

“Excuse me,” a quiet voice said from behind, startling David. He gasped and whipped around. It was a man, middle aged with a large nose and long face and dressed in clothes that still looked expensive even while drenched. He looked vaguely familiar, though David couldn’t place why.

“What the fuck is your problem?” David snapped. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man said, smiling apologetically. “I didn’t mean to.”

David scowled. “Whatever.”

“Is it possible I could ask for some directions? I’m here on vacation and I got lost in the park in the rain. That’s what I get for walking around in the dark, I suppose.” The man brightened his face, waiting for David to laugh politely, but David grimaced, bearing his teeth. The man’s face fell, his mouth forming a hard line, and David could sense fear in his widening eyes. He tried to figure who the man looked like, some scummy politician maybe-LBJ, Nixon? But then he realized that it was Max he was trying to think of, though this man looked older. As the man’s face grew more and more terrified, David felt a strange glimmer of satisfaction.

The next thing he knew he was standing over the man as he lay crumpled at his feet. He wasn’t moving and David could tell in his gut that he was dead. Then he looked down to see that his clothes and hands were stained with blood. David knew he should be horrified and scared, but his entire body was throbbing with a vibrant exhilaration and satisfaction. No drug or sex he had ever had could come close to comparing to it. He sat down and waited for the sensation to ebb for what felt like hours, but in the growing absence of the pleasure his craving for it increased, his entire being demanding desperately that he chase after it. Moving in tandem was the mounting panicked realization of what he had done and who he was becoming, especially as he licked his lips and shivered with bliss at the small taste of blood. But it wasn’t much of a mystery of who he should go to for answers and revenge.

-

He broke down Max’s door without giving him any warning. But the melodrama of it was disappointingly negated when David found him patiently sitting on his couch, a newspaper in his hand and a pleasant smile plastered on his face, as if he had been expecting him. He looked David up and down, not at all disturbed by his dripping clothes or the blood he had mostly failed to scrub off.

“It appears you’ve had an exciting night,” Max said, standing up and walking towards David.

“What did you do to me?” David shouted swiftly meeting him halfway and moving to scream in his face.

“Nothing you didn’t want,” Max replied calmly.

“Fuck you,” David yelled. “I _never_ asked for this.”

“Maybe not in so many words, but you said you’d do anything for Marko.”

“What makes you think I meant becoming a murderer?”

“What happened to blowing up Vietnam?”

David gritted his teeth so hard that he thought his jaw would break. “I was _drunk_ , I didn’t mean that.”

“Don’t pretend that you wouldn’t have done it, given the opportunity,” Max said, wagging a finger in his face patronizingly. “I can see straight through you, you know.”

“You don’t know nothing about me,” David spat. Max chuckled.

“You’re rather ungrateful, you know. You should be thanking me.”

“Why the fuck would I thank you for this?”

“Don’t you see? I saved Marko, and you. Who knows how long it would have been until you got drafted too.”

David growled low in his throat. “You didn’t give me a choice; you made me into a killer. How is this any better than being a soldier?”

“Would you really rather Uncle Sam force a gun in your hands and command you to shoot and bomb men, women, and children for king and country, or would you rather kill for yourself and your own survival? I gave you a gift.”

David’s whole body tensed, the blood thumping in his ears. “I’m not a murderer!”

“Then why was it so easy for you to kill today?” Max responded firmly, as if he were a father scolding his children. “I didn’t have to tell you what you are or how to feed-it all came naturally to you. This is who you’re meant to be, and you know it.”

David sprung forward, his hand clenched and slung back, ready to hit Max, but he smiled to reveal pointed and sharp teeth. David shrank in horror and Max surged towards him, pushing against his chest so forcefully that he flew back and hit the wall with a deafening crack. He fell to the floor, sputtering and curling in pain. As he choked on the blood bubbling in the back of his throat, he finally relented to the fact that he wasn’t human anymore; if he had been the force of his body hitting the wall would have surely snapped his spine or split his head open. Max walked over to his place on the floor, crouching down to smile at him.

David shook his head weakly. “What do you want from me?” he said with as much venom as he could muster. “Why didn’t you just kill me? I would have let you do it, for Marko.”

“I need someone to help me with favors and errands here and there, and back me up with protection, when required. That’s why I turned you.”

“So you want me to be your fucking henchman?”

Max laughed. “No, not at all.” He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. “You know, the main reason I picked you is that I see a lot of myself when I was your age in you-smart, passionate, angry. I haven’t had a family in a long time and I could use the companionship. Think of me like an uncle, or father even.”

David frowned, still trying to get ahold of his breathing. “And Marko?”

“You can bring him along too, if you’d like.”

David sighed deeply, tearing at his hair slightly. “This wasn’t what I wanted.”

“What do you want then?”

David shook his head helplessly. “I…I don’t know anymore.”

“What else should you want but strength and security, especially at your age? But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you; a father does that for his sons, doesn’t he?”


End file.
